


For the Guilty

by MournfulSeverity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Azkaban, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Grief/Mourning, Ilvermorny, Investigations, Mistakes, Murder, Murder Mystery, New York City, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Severus Snape Lives, Virgin Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MournfulSeverity/pseuds/MournfulSeverity
Summary: Nagini had failed to take his life in the shack. By some miracle, Severus had survived, only to be face with another trial, another dark wizard. The problem this time, is not everything is what it appears to be. Originally posted as "New Beginnings"





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, Like always.
> 
> A/N: This fic was originally posted under a different name, but I had posted so few chapters and made so many changes, that I just decided to make it a new story, so here we are. 
> 
> This fic was also heavily influenced by BBC's River (2015). 
> 
> The first chapter is unusually short because it's a prologue, the chapters following it will be longer. 
> 
> The primary pairing is Severus/OC with the secondary pairing Harry/Ginny starting chapter six. Enjoy!

  ****

**"For the guilty, there is nothing that gives more masochistic pleasure than to retrace ones steps, to replay the details of one's most horrific crimes."**

**-Thomas Cream, River**

**XXXX**

  **May 2nd, 1998**

His blood felt thick, even as it spilled through the gaping wound in his neck. The pain he had expected as fangs punctured his throat, tearing away what lay within hadn’t been there. He hadn’t felt the sharp white of Nagini taking his life since he no longer had anything else to give. He hadn’t cared when the vision of the Potter boy flooded his vision completely. There had been nothing but green and he had thought of little else.

The green of the grass he had laid in beside the river, beside Lily. The green of the forbidden forest he and Lily had ventured in too many times. The green stems of lilies themselves. Of the scales covering Nagini. Of noxious potions brewing in the Slytherin dungeon **.** Of Potter, the boy that had infuriated him for the past seven years, that had disobeyed his every command, defied every wisp of knowledge he had to give. Had disappointed him with just how little he was like Lily after all that Severus had done.

Nothing but green and the memories that came with them.

Beneath the haze, he could hear Potter’s voice, nearly indistinguishable from the sound that filled his head. A promise that he’d be Lily’s once more. That’s what Nagini had brought him. Instead of pain, of fear, she had given him a release, the freedom he’d been tempted to take for himself over the years.

And then the touch was gone, Potter’s hand removed from his throat. The warmth of another human being – no matter who – that he had craved for so long, withdrawn, denying him once more of his one simple wish. Severus hadn’t fought the black that hung around the edges of his vision, spilling inside like ink, the bleakness. The numbness of death that settled in his bones.

His task had been finished, Potter had been passed the final blow that would win the war. There was no point in scrabbling against the aged, wooden floor of the shack. Death. The lover he had danced beside for years was giving him her final bow.

Xxxx

_“You could have been nicer to him.”_

_Severus snuggled closer into the scent of warm vanilla, his face close to her breast. It rose and fell with each breath and he rode the motions, matching his breathing with hers.  “But what would have been the fun of that?”_

_He had always hated the necessary act of talking, of communication, of human interaction in general. The majority of the time, he was perfectly content to sit beside his bubbling potions and listen to nothing else, but every blasted person he had come upon felt differently. They all had a story to tell and bloody insisted on telling him._

_Lily had been the exception to that rule, but then again, she was the exception to most._

_Yet, even now, though he hadn’t heard her dulcet voice in years, he wished for silence. He just wanted to lie beside her, to feel the curves of his body pressed into his, her thin waist beneath his hand. He wanted to hear her breathing and know that she was alive._

_“Severus?” His voice was sounded like something sweet on her tongue, a dessert she had indulged in and craved more of. A request when put like that he could never imagine denying. She ran her fingers through his hair, painted nails scraping softly along his scalp. A gasp of pleasure escaped him. “I mean it. You treated him…”_

_“Like his father? I’m aware.” He should have tasted the bitter bile of regret, but he didn’t. he simply didn’t have room for guilt when it came to the boy. Not when he had guilt for so much else. “Snape.”_

_He groaned again, this one of exasperation. “Why must you call me that?”_

_“Severus?” Came the voice again, confused, hesitant, and he realized it wasn’t her._

He lifted his hand to his throat, having not realized just how much of a burden it had been to talk. Light from the windows fell infuriatingly on his face, casting orange shadows of morning across it. War, it seemed, had extended into the next day

“Good, you’re awake.”

He blinked his eyes open, staring into those of Madam Pomfrey. “I’m not sure I’d call it that.” He rasped, wanting to close his eyes and return to the bliss that had left him. To return to Lily.

“Don’t talk Sev, just…be.”

He craned his neck despite the painful warning that zinged across it, the memory of what had happened that night. His eyes fell on Lily and he felt his body melt, the pain dissipating at the sight of her. He did what he could to nod, wincing all the while. He had to give some indication that he had heard her.

He wanted to pull her into the bed beside him, to turn his most recent dream into a reality. His mind was too far gone, to muddled by potion and trauma to think of why she was here beside him, _alive._

“Professor.”

His lids drifted closed in a learned exasperation, an automatic reaction to the voice of the Potter boy. He kept his silent promise to Lily though, not speaking, instead he stared.

“Your memories.”

When Severus opened his eyes again, Potter was there, in the seat Lily had just been. Where had she gone? Why had she left him?

“What about them?” He croaked, his hand coming up. It seemed he was a long way from being healed.

“Is it true? That you…that you…”

“That you left me in the shack to die?” He admonished Potter, remembering how the boy had fled at Severus’ most vulnerable. At that thought, he couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, who had brought him. “Paralysis is a symptom of snake venom.”

Potter’s face grew sheepish, red creeping into his pale skin dotted with the occasional freckle. Severus wanted to remind him that had he paid attention in his classes, had read up on such beasts, he might have already been aware. The boy had faced off with a bloody basilisk, he should have known better. Should have…should have done a lot of things. And Severus was tired, so tired. Had this been any other day he would have assigned detention, taken points, although he surmised that was no longer a possibility. He was freed, the shackle that had held him here gone…was it gone? “The Dark Lord…” Severus paused, speech growing impossibly difficult. “Is he…?”

“Yes.”

Severus expected the boy’s face to be filled with pride. If Lord Voldemort had truly been defeated this time, Potter should be ecstatic. But, he understood the heavy cloud of grey that hung over him. Severus had seen the bodies, there had been so many, so many more than there ever should have been. Even he himself had lost allies on both sides of the war, had lost his final connection with the world, a connection he thought was severed the previous year with his murder of Dumbledore. But, no. Even Lucius had betrayed him in the end.

He didn’t know of the victims that piled since, how many Potter was close to. It would be far more than Severus could imagine. So many of the students he had sworn to protect likely extinguished in the early hours of morning.

“Severus Snape.” His name was said yet again, this time by a voice heavy with an accent. Never in all his years had he had so much attention, what had garnered it this time?

His eyes threatened to drift shut a final time, his final flicker of energy draining from his body as Kingsley Shacklebolt approached him. He felt the tender fingers of Lily grasp his as more words were uttered. “You’re under arrest for collusion with Lord Voldemort and suspicion of murder.”


	2. Return

**August 14th, 2001**

His leg twitched in anticipation. He wasn't sure how to survive in a world without a master, one without guidance. He had followed along with what someone else wanted him to do for nearly all his life. The rules of school and his parents, the Dark Lord, and even Dumbledore. Severus had only had the privilege to make his own decisions once in his life and had chosen abhorrently wrong. That singular choice was what landed him here.

The stone in front of him was damp and stunk of mildew. In all its time spent in the sea, the building had never once been dry. The continuous waves that crashed over the prison fed the growth of mold and Merlin knew what else.

The guard beside him watched him uneasily. He never stepped more than a pace or two away. Maybe when Severus was younger he could have taken the guard in pure physical combat, but those days had passed. He'd always been overly thin and undernourished, but some strength had lurked beneath those unchanging black robes. That, too, had been taken by Azkaban. Now, he was forty-one, in the worst shape of his life, and wandless. The guard had no need to be wary of him. Should Severus take the foolish action of attacking him and therefore increasing the length of his nearly over sentence, he would lose.

A pop filled the cavernous room, echoing off the blank walls and bringing a familiar face. "What do you say about getting out of here, Severus?"

Severus huffed. Azkaban had never taken his distaste for other people. "That's Snape, even to you."

The auror removed his wand, tapping on the magical handcuffs that bound Severus' wrists together. They dissolved at the spell and Severus rubbed at the raw skin of his wrists. The bones beneath jutted through his untanned skin. He hadn't properly seen sunlight in 1,107 days. Perhaps another twenty-six years if you counted all the time he spent in the Hogwarts' dungeon. He couldn't claim he received much sunlight then either.

Not privy to his wand quite yet, he allowed the auror to place a hand on Severus' shoulder and disapparate after one last, quick glance at the guard that an anxiously paced past him in his wait.

He was nauseated by the action, his stomach lurching along with the hook that pulled beneath his belly button. Three years without apparition changed how it affected him. Severus felt as if it was his first time all over again. He buried a worry deep within his mind that he may not remember how to do it again.

The black tiled walls of the Ministry were lined with torches every few feet. The place was lit entirely by flame, but bright enough to appear otherwise. The flames burned his retinas, far brighter than he'd been accustomed to. He blinked away the spots in his eyes as he was dragged toward a room and nudged inside. The touch was gentle, unlike those he'd received more recently.

The door was shut, leaving the two men alone in the near empty, clinically white space. The only pieces of furniture were a miniscule storage unit pushed against the wall, a mirror, and a thin plastic chair.

"I'd expect you're missing this." The auror removed a second wand from the interior of his robes. It had been crafted of blackthorn wood which housed a singular dragon heart string. The wand was pliable and thirteen inches in length. Much of it was plain, the only decoration being found on the handle. Most importantly, it was his.

Severus reached for the wand eagerly. His hands cradled it as though it was newborn baby while his fingers explored it, looking for any new imperfections that may have occurred in his absence.

"These should suit you as well." The auror passed over a folded mass of black fabric he had retrieved from storage, Severus' boots balanced on top. "You'll find a bit of blood on the collar still. Whatever type of snake bit you had some kind of venom that was bloody hard to get out. Still a fair bit better than returning home in that." He gestured to the black and white striped prison garb Severus had been forced to wear the last few years. "Shouldn't scare the neighbors as much."

Severus took his robes with slightly less enthusiasm before meeting the man's hazel eyes. "Thank you, Eldread." He looked down at his few possessions. "For everything."

With a clap on the back, Eldread flashed him a smile. "It's my job, Professor."

Severus shuddered, having no desire to own that title again. If he had been happy for anything in Azkaban, it was that that title was no longer used. But, he understood the sentiment, choosing to ignore it. "You did more than that."

"I'll leave you to it then." He removed one last item, a stack of letters Severus had received while away. Owls weren't allowed near the prison and prisoners weren't allowed any contact with the outside world. Eldread, his assigned auror, had been the only face outside of Azkaban Severus had seen in years. The auror stepped from the room, allowing Severus his privacy.

He looked first to the letters, recognizing the writing on the top most one. His name had been scrawled in a glittering green ink, the end of each letter curving to the side. Minerva. Unsurprisingly, their friendship had ended after his murder of Dumbledore. The rest of the staff had despised him thenceforth, leaving him utterly alone. He couldn't say it had changed much of his life, seeing as they'd never known his full story to begin with.

He slid the top letter beneath the rest. The writing of the second as recognizable as the first. It was the irritatingly messy scrawl he had graded for seven years, Potter. His most complicated relationship in life was with that boy, particularly with the end of the war. Deciding he didn't care to read them – not yet anyway – he placed the stack down. Severus faced the mirror, taking in the person he no longer recognized. As if serving Lord Voldemort hadn't aged him enough, being locked in a cell had.

Azkaban didn't exactly house a barber shop. Even showers were scarce in the prison. Severus' hair had always been greasy, a mix of potion fumes and poor hygiene habits, but now it was a knotted mess along with it. His stick straight hair hung down his back approximately seven inches longer than it had been before. The individual strands had been irreversibly tangled with one another, now forming a singular mass.

Azkaban had turned him into a proper Neanderthal. Along with the tangle of black that hung from his head, there was also a beard sprouting from his face. He rubbed a hand across the rough hair, something he would be getting rid of as soon as possible.

Deep purple bags hung under his eyes, accentuating his hollow cheeks. Looking at himself, he wasn't entirely convinced he had survived Nagini's attack. Given his appearance, "corpse" seemed like more of an accurate term than "alive".

He forced his eyes away, striping down and unfolding his familiar robes. The robes, always a smaller size, had suited him perfectly a mere 3 years ago. Now, as he did the button of his pants, they hung precariously on his narrow hips. His shirt was much of the same, billowing outwards compared to the thinness of him beneath it. He looked at himself once more, feeling like a child dressing up in his father's clothes.

Eldread had been right about the blood. Long ago dried scarlet had darkened the black of his robes. The blood that had so freely flowed from his neck had pooled into a circle that covered most of his shoulder. He didn't know how long it had been before he was found in that shack. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd survived.

He reached up, fingers grazing the healed scar Nagini had left him. Her magical properties had made it difficult to heal. Although the venom had been fully extracted from the wound, his skin had refused to close for some time. The result was two obvious tears in his flesh that he was unable to cover like his other scars.

He remembered far too well the way it had felt when Nagini had flung herself at him, how her razor-sharp teeth had dug into his flesh, tearing through what lay beneath. Even the copper scent of blood filled his nose despite there being none. Those sensations, gone at first, had come back to him over time.

Severus squeezed his trembling hands into fists, allowing his uncut fingernails to dig into his skin.  _You're alive._ He chanted, forcing the memories behind a barrier.  _You're alive, you're alive, you're alive._

Xxxx

Severus had apparated to the foyer of his home. He hadn't returned since the summer after killing his confidant. Everything had remained untouched in his absence; the only addition was four years of dust. Even an edition of the Prophet lay discarded on the table beside his arm chair.

He had left this place the day he had come of age, wanting nothing to do with his parents. On that day, he had no intention of ever coming back, doing so only when they died. Their death had come near his employment at Hogwarts and he had been given the deed to the house. There was no sense in obtaining his own home just to live in it for a few months out the year, and so he remained here.

One thing he despised every year after the school's end was coming back to this place where every inch was filled with bad memories. He admitted it couldn't have done him any good.

Standing in the entrance, he realized he didn't want to be here anymore than he wanted to be in Azkaban. The slight inheritance he'd received from the death of his parents and grandparents combined with his unused, Hogwarts salary, and the pounds selling this place would bring him left him in a position where he could leave, go anywhere in this world and survive for some time without an income.

Potter had given him a new lease on life. It was high time he started living for himself and no one else.

Xxxx

Severus walked slowly through the old building, a place he realized he no longer considered home. He stopped only when reaching the bathroom.

Standing on the linoleum floor, he removed the clothes he had dressed in only minutes before. Some altercations would need to be made. Grimacing at himself in the mirror above the sink, he opted first for a shave. Severus fumbled through a small cupboard, extracting an old razor. When his face had been lathered with the smooth, artificial smelling cream did he drag the razor across it in satisfaction.

As the minutes passed, hairs and shaving cream filling the tiny, white sink, did he begin to see  _himself_  again. He dipped his hand beneath the faucet, wetting his fingers before wiping them too across his face and the skin he hadn't seen in so long.

Next was his hair. He removed his wand, drawing it upwards with a slightly shaking hand. His wand was as much a part of him as his arm, yet there was a nervousness to using it again. He gripped the large knot that hung at the base of his neck, pulling it away from him. With a wince, he cast a severing charm, slicing through the black hair and returning it to a length just shorter than how he had worn it all these years.

The shower was his most favorite part of all. When he had been able to receive one, the water had been cold, and he'd only been allowed a few minutes. This time he stood beneath the showerhead, letting the warm, almost too hot water run down him. It burned at his skin creating a flush, but he reveled in the satisfactory sting.

When he was finally clean and redressed, he felt more like a human being, free of the grime that should never cover another person. The only thing left for him to wipe away was his memories.

His occlumency skill was no longer as good as it once was. He'd had no need, no desire to retain his barriers. The action forced himself to relive the worst moments of his life, some of which had occurred after the Dark Lord's downfall. It was, as always, just another mistake he had made and another he had to live with.

 


	3. Visitor

_**August 15th** _

Harry knocked meekly on the chipped, wooden door in front of him. When silence met his ears in return, he raised his fist to knock again. A figure appeared behind the frosted glass windows suddenly and Harry's arm dropped to his side as the door was answered.

He had been surprised to learn that his old professor was only thirty-seven during the battle. He had known Snape was the youngest faculty member, but when compared to professors in their seventies and above, that wasn't saying much.

Snape had aged far more than a man his age should have. It reminded Harry of Remus, who had been in much of the same position. The lives they had led having deepened the lines in their faces and caused an unfixable weariness in their eyes. Harry hadn't expected Snape to appear even older now, but given the circumstances, he shouldn't have been surprised.

Snape stood in front of him, the usual grimace etched into his face, displeasure at seeing Harry on his doorstep. He had lost the robes Harry had become accustomed to, appearing much more muggle like. His face held a tiredness that couldn't be rectified by sleep and even the typical scowl he normally wore had been subdued. The one improvement to his appearance was the lack of grease in his hair.

"You're home." Harry's eyes darted first to the gashes on Snape's throat, ones he had attempted to staunch only a few years prior.

"How very astute of you, Potter." His lip curled upward. "Years of schooling wasn't wasted on you, then."

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes, but kept his composure. Instead, he looked next at the number that had been stamped on Snape's neck, just below the mark Nagini had left him. "There were no complications with your release, I expect?"

"Other than the fact it was necessary, no."

Harry peeked over Snape's left shoulder, more than just a lit curious about what lay inside. "I hoped I could have a word with you."

Snape's chest rose with a huff of frustration as he glanced down the street outside his home. Harry wondered briefly which one had belonged to his mother. The door was opened further, giving Harry a place to step and he did.

The interior of the home wasn't much different than what Harry had seen of the outside. It was shabby and worn, although not in a way of love. He had half expected the building to resemble the Hogwarts dungeons, full of potions and little else and was disappointed to find that it wasn't.

On a nearby surface sat a fat stack of unopened letters, ones Harry knew he had received at his release. Knowing some were from him, he found himself curious and slightly annoyed that they had yet to be read. The furniture was sparse and empty bookshelves lined the walls while cardboard boxes were scattered across the floor. "You're moving?"

Snape glanced around the small room at the half-packed belongings. His face held a distaste that for once Harry felt wasn't reserved for him. "I have stayed here much longer than I ever intended."

"Where will you go?"

"You needed something, Potter?"

Harry swallowed, he should have known not to expect much, even with his new level of comfort around the man. "I wanted to be sure that you were getting on okay. Life after prison can be…"

"I'm alive." Came Snape's only explanation, one that didn't entirely answer Harry's question. The two words were filled with what he swore was disappointment. "It is none of your concern." He hunched over a box he had been working on, loading even more books inside with a grimace of pain. Harry wondered vaguely why he wasn't using a wand.

"It's my job, Professor."

Snape straightened slightly at the term that had so easily slipped from Harry's mouth. "That title is no longer mine and it would be Eldread's job before it was ever yours."

"Mr. Fiddlewood has been assigned to another case."

Snape's eyelids fell in exasperation "If that's all, I have some to work to do." He gestured to the remaining items.

"You look like  _utter shite."_ To Harry's surprise, the remark earned him the flicker of a smile. Snape's brow dropped as he examined Harry, causing him to shift in place.

"I'm afraid I'll have to agree with you. Yet another reason to move on from here." A silence stretched out between them, neither quite sure what to say. Snape was the first to break it. "I appreciate…all that you've done." The words were forced through his teeth as though they were physically painful to admit. Harry assumed they likely were.

"You've forgiven me, then?" Harry smiled with a hope he had never dreamed of giving this man. Snape's eyes grew impossibly colder and a new awkwardness crept into the room. "I was trying-" He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your intentions were admirable, but I can't entirely thank you. Not yet."

Harry's smile was drawn in and he gave a nod of his head. His fingers grazed the piece of furniture beside him as he fiddled in nervousness. His visit this evening wasn't entirely meant to check on Severus' well-being. "My mother…I know nothing about her. Everyone who did is gone, except… " Except him, unless you counted Aunt Petunia, which he didn't.

Snape abandoned his task, fully focusing on Harry for the first time. After a minute of staring, he slowly approached a window at Harry's side, drawing back the curtain so they could see into the street. "That one, there, with the oak tree." He pointed to a house that was only six down from the one they were in. "That was hers." Harry stared at it through the grime covered window, feeling a pull towards the house that was nearly identical to this one.

He was still perplexed by the man beside him who had grown considerably softer towards him after the events in the shack, surprise that Snape had discussed his Mum at all. But, as he looked at him, he found Snape's expression distant and knew this wasn't about him at all.

"Lily was…" Snape trailed off. It was a show of unsureness that Harry had never known. He felt a flutter in his chest at the mention of his Mum's name. Without another word, Snape stepped from the window and towards a clump of boxes. He shifted through the pile momentarily before pulling back the flaps of one and going for something inside.

Harry watched him rummage through the belongings, listened to the shuffle of papers and noticed the miniscule change in Snape's expression. Snape paused, seeming to have found what he was looking for. He stared into the box for a moment more before stepping away and holding the object out to Harry.

Harry glanced down at the picture in his hand before back up at Snape and accepting it greedily. His Mum was reclined back on her elbows in a field of green grass, her head thrown back in laughter. The photograph was unmoving, muggle. "That was the summer after third year. You can keep it, if you'd like."

Harry met the man's face again, his lips parted in surprise. After one last glance, he tucked the photo into an interior pocket of his black auror robes which were trimmed with gold and patted the cloth that concealed it. "Would you like some help?"

Xxxx

Severus watched through the glass of his door as Potter wandered down the street to the house he had shown him. He was remarkably like his father, ever curious about the things he shouldn't be and disgustingly upfront with his emotions. But, Severus had to admit that pieces of Lily were visible as well. It still boggled Severus' mind how the boy had helped in the end. Despite every horrible thing that he had seen him do, Potter had tried desperately to save him.

After three years without seeing Potter's insolent face, Severus felt slightly more at ease. The boy was no longer a mission that needed to be completed, another life that needed to be protected. The two of them now coexisted in a life free of the Dark Lord. As a result, the tensions between them had dimmed. A sense of displeasure was still associated with the boy from the past they shared, but Severus now found his presence tolerable

It was because of Potter that Severus had spent so little time in Azkaban, compared to that of the other death eaters. He owed the boy for far more than he was ready to admit. And now, looking around the small house that was filled only with boxes, Severus would be adding another thing to the list.

Thoughts of Potter made his overtired mind hurt. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, nails scratching at his scalp. He allowed his wand to finally slip into his hand, exhaustion overriding his avoidance of magic. The boxes were loaded into the bag he had previously expanded for them. He had no idea where he was going to go, but anywhere was better than here.

Xxxx

"Thank you, he needed that."

Severus sighed, not one of exasperation, but pleasure. Kg was the voice of Lily breaking through his thoughts. He felt his shoulders drop as her arms snaked around him, caressing him like a wave does the sand. "I knew you wouldn't get off my back if didn't and I fully intended to keep you there."

"What? Here?" Her arms still around him, she leaped, her legs going to his waist so that she was quite literally on his back. Severus rolled his eyes, tipping his head backwards to meet the emeralds her eyes held. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Not a whole lot, to be frank." The sweet words grew into a scolding tone he knew he deserved. This was a conversation they had had before.

"I'm aware of your feelings on the matter, but it's over, I can't go back." He  _couldn't_ go back, not to that day he had spilled the secret of the prophecy, of the attack in Godric's Hollow, of Potter's first day at Hogwarts, when he had berated him, and the days that came after. There was no redoing any of it, had it been possible, he would have done it long ago.

Xxxx

_**September 1** _ _**st** _

Severus shut his eyes in the dark, allowing the yearning need of the instruments to wash over him. He was enraptured by the experience, the way the pianist's fingers lingered over the ivory keys, how the violinists drew the bows over the strings. Then there was the powerful silence between each composition that was almost as beautiful as the music itself.

It wasn't a place he had ever pictured himself being, had never assumed he would enjoy, but within minutes he had fallen in love. In the dark, the melody had turned into a magic of its own. Each swell of notes taking hold of him. His eyes had stopped darting around for potential danger. His hand had relaxed on his wand. Instead of keeping an eye out for possible attacks, he had lost himself in the surroundings.

The music ended much too soon and the people around him stood, making their way from the theatre. Severus remained in his velvet seat, Lily beside him, trying to make the night last just a little longer. The stage had been cleared of musicians and the audience of members, leaving him alone in the vast space. He hadn't realized how long he had stayed until a silvery voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir?" The occupant brushed his wrist, causing him to flinch. He stood abruptly, looking at the woman in front of him. She wore a maroon peplum coat over black trousers with a black scarf tied around her neck. Honey blonde hair interspersed with lighter shades cascaded down her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face.

"My apologies, I-." His eyebrows came inwards, a frown forming on his face as something caught his eye. He glanced down for a better look, catching sight of what he thought was a wand sticking out of a pocket.

"I take it this was your first time?"

"Was it that obvious?" He looked back up, rubbing the side of his neck in nervousness and an effort to hide what was there.

She laughed. "It's a common occurrence."

He shook his head slightly "You were one of the performers, weren't you?"

"Violinist, yes." She lifted her hand in a wave of goodbye as one of the other players left, a momentary distraction as she bid a friend farewell.

He met her brandy colored eyes and slid his hands into his pockets. "You were a pleasure to listen to. Excuse me for taking up your time." He turned to go when he felt her fingers on his wrist again.

"Your clothes. You aren't a muggle, are you?" She gestured to the robes he had resized, a set that was free of blood.

"Muggle?" He cocked his head in mock confusion, as if he'd never heard the term before.

He was given a restrained smile in response, the woman never having believed him for a second. "That's an interesting answer for a man with an Azkaban tattoo."

Severus felt his body go rigid, the ease of the conversation gone. His hand dropped, any attempt to hide the mark was pointless now.

"And British. Hogwarts?" She began to walk, forcing him to walk beside her if he wanted to continue the conversation and they continued from the place with a perplexed Lily trailing behind them.

"Unfortunately so. Is everyone here magical, or did I happen to find the one that is?"

"It's rather mixed. There are several witches and wizards in the orchestra."

"Fantastic." He mumbled beneath his breath. This was supposed to be his escape. She gave him a sideways glance, having heard the word he meant to be quiet.

"The name's Ixora."

He stared at her in hesitation, not entirely comfortable with sharing his.  _You'll never see her again._ His mind reasoned and he spoke after a second of silence. "Severus." He waited for recognition, perhaps a recoil, but there was nothing.

"There's a pub just down the street. Would you care for a drink?"

"You want a drink with a convict?" He spoke derisively, eyebrow raised.

She rolled her eyes and he was suddenly enraptured by her stubbornness. "We're alone in the theatre. Had it been your intention, you would have done something already. I find it highly unlikely you'd rather wait until were around others." She pressed her back into the bar of the door, pushing it open and allowing them out.

 _Voldemort's left tit, she has a mind too._ "You make a fair point."

They continued through the carpeted halls lit with over the top chandeliers, only talking again when they stepped into the crisp autumn air. "What did you do?" She gestured to her own neck, indicating the spot of his tattoo.

He swallowed hard before scoffing to himself. His first day outside in years and he had met someone entirely unafraid of offending him. Either that, or she was obtuse. "I made a mistake."

"A rather large one if it landed you there." She laughed

"You could say so." He grimaced. The noise of the pub on a busy Saturday night reached them before they grew close enough to enter. Severus froze in his steps, suddenly wary at the mass of people. Loud voices called over each other and glasses clinked together. Despite all his reasons for coming to this place, the inability to face far too painful memories, the potential to run into people he knew, he found himself longing for home. Even through the pain, there was a familiarity to Cokeworth, to Hogwarts. Perhaps Minerva would let him visit the castle. He rather missed his discussions with Dumbledore's portrait.

"Severus?"

He blinked, focusing on her face again and attempting to drown out the noise around them. "I have something to attend to. It was- "

"That's a load if I've ever heard one. You just got out, didn't you?"

His brows knitted together for a moment and his voice came out hoarse, not sounding like his own. "Yes."

She removed the scarf from around her neck, revealing a tattoo of her own. "It was larceny and arson for me. Been out for two years."

He smirked slightly, the crimes she committed were nothing in comparison to things he had done. It was clear she wouldn't allow him to go until she decided she had enough. Frankly, he was enjoying the company of the woman beside him and not quite ready to be rid of her. With her in tow, he strode toward the bar once again.

Severus needed to return to society one day, he might as well do it with another, warm human being beside him.


	4. A New City

Severus had chosen this city due to its size. It was more than large enough to become lost in, inconspicuous. A trait he desired after too much time in the spotlight. Judging by the waves Ixora gave and received, he might have been wrong.

It was clear she was well known here, and he felt out of place beside her. If she was a witch, surely some of the others were magical, too. How many would know who he was? How many would speak of him in hushed tones after he had left? He should never have agreed to this.

He could have left,  _should_  have left. It would be easy to pop into the loo and disapparate. She'd be angry with him, any person in their right mind would, but he didn't plan on being in her presence again. Disappointing her now would be far from his biggest regret.

Despite the pull he felt towards the bathroom, his potential freedom, he followed her across the bar anyway. His legs seemed to have a mind of their own, that or perhaps he was little intrigued about where this could go, Lily prattling on beside him.

“I don’t know why you had to agree to this, can’t we leave?”

“ _Shh._ ” He insisted the sound forced through his teeth. “We won’t be long.”

“Why are you here at all?” She admonished and Severus was quiet, he wasn’t sure how to answer that one. Instead he ignored the looks of angered curiosity, the attempts at conversation, and trudged on ahead.

Ixora had chosen a table that wouldn't necessarily be called secluded, but remained out of the throng of people. The noise just quiet enough that the two of them could think, converse, without the struggle of yelling to be heard. _Sometimes,_ he supposed, _being in a crowd is the best place to keep secrets._

She ordered him a vodka, without so much as a question to what he wanted or giving an opportunity to decide for himself. It wasn't what he would have chosen, but it would serve its purpose. "You're quite the enigma."

Her head flipped towards him, a glare and a coy smile playing on her face. She wasn't sure if she should be offended. "And what do you mean by that?"

"You gave a hello to nearly everyone in this room and then immediately secluded yourself here. You speak English, but your accent suggests it isn't your first language. And you so willingly display your wand." He gestured to the stick which laid openly on the table.

"Mein, mein, du bist aufmerksam, tetapi saya bukan satu-satunya teka-teki.

Severus lifted his hands in defeat, unable to help the glower that crossed his features. "Now if only I could understand the answer to my question."

“Picked a good one, didn’t you?” Lily hissed beside him and he ignored it.

Ixora smiled, her eyes falling away from him and to the table. "You're attentive, but I'm not the only puzzle."

"It's my job." He punctuated with a sip of the clear liquid that was placed in front of him. Returning his glass to the table, his hand hovered as he realized his mistake. " _Was_  my job."

"And what exactly was that?" Her eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"It's not important." He swallowed, realizing for the first time that day that it was the first of September. Barring Azkaban, as he tended not to include that area of his life, he had spent this day of the last seventeen years at Hogwarts. Another seven if you counted his schooling.

In his realization, he had stared absentmindedly into the space in front of him. It was only the sudden, familiar intrusion that broke his thoughts. He stood with a jerk, banging his knee on the table. "Those aren't yours." He snarled, turning to go. This had been a mistake. Lily gripped hold of him, watching him without able to really doing anything. He was thankful, at the least, for the pressure of her hand on his wrist

She stood too, facing him down, unbothered by the venom in his voice, his face. "Most wizards aren't so practiced in occlumency. I was unaware that you'd notice, let alone shut me out so forcefully."

He rubbed at his kneecap, soothing the ache he had created. "A person's knowledge on the topic does not dictate its morality. There are other ways to learn about people."

"Speak to me then. You appear to have a habit of drifting off and forgetting that I'm there entirely."

To his amazement, he hesitated. After over twenty years of living a life of solitude, he found it difficult to give up the one person who paid attention. He grumbled at himself, glancing at his abandoned drink, and resumed his spot at the table.

"Most New Yorkers speak English. It's not unusual that I should." She explained, rushing on to answers his questions of earlier before he could clarify that that wasn’t what he meant. "English is not exactly uncommon here either. Choosing to use it when approaching you was merely luck. And I, unlike yourself, tend to be a friendly person. A hello does not mean that I know someone."

"And the wand?" He prodded, ignore the snide comments she had made toward his intelligence. It had been his subtle attempt at asking where she was from, not for a history lesson on New York.

"Convenience. I'm not afraid of appearing insane should a muggle question it."

He sucked his teeth in thought. "You’ve always lived here then? I assume Hogwarts is out of the question?"

"Niet, Ilvermorny, the American school

"And exactly how many languages do you speak?"

"A fair few." She blushed slightly, taking a gulp of her own, previously forgotten drink. "You were a professor?"

His upper lip curled, taken back by the sudden question. "Did you see anything else?"

"No." Her response was solid. "You shut me out before I had a chance." Rather than seeming disappointed in herself at that, she seemed disappointed in  _him._

"I was." He responded slowly. "But it was never my intention."

"How long?"

"Seventeen years."

She sputtered on her drink. "Seventeen years in a career you never intended? How…admirable?"

The corners of his lips twitched almost imperceptivity, her choking proved her lack of knowledge about who he was.

She nodded to his left hand. "That explains the lack of a ring. Children?"

"Merlin, no. I spent enough time around the little brats, Godric forbid I have some of my own." As if that was the only reason. The lack of a partner was certainly another factor. He kept his eyes forward, not in the mood to see the scowl that had crossed Lily’s face.

"I can't stand the beasts either." She gave a wrinkle of her nose.

His eyes found her neck, the faded tattoo that was nearly identical to his and found himself overwhelmed with curiosity. "How long did you serve?"

"Eighteen months." She huffed. "More than enough. Yourself?"

"Just over three years, although I was originally facing twelve."

"Taik, Severus." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "What did you do?"

He grimaced in an effort to come up with a more suitable explanation than the truth. This was his second chance, he didn't have a desire to create the need for a third. "Assault." It wasn't  _technically_ a lie. He'd hurt his fair share of people, only to a different degree than she would likely think. "An old student of mine is an auror, he…" Severus shook his head. There were too many adjectives he could use to describe Harry, and for once, not all of them were bad.

"Assault is a very general description. I'm going to need more than that before inviting you back to my place."

He opened his mouth to respond, but found himself shocked instead. "Excuse me?"

“Oh, absolutely not.” Lily hissed beside him. “You can’t go back with her, you can’t”

Severus held a hand up to show that he wasn’t interested in her argument and her mouth slammed shut.

Ixora looked on in curiosity, her words pausing at the unusual exchange before she continued in hesitation."What did they do? Look at you the wrong way?"

 _Exist, does that qualify for an answer? And what in the bloody hell did she mean "her place"?_ He glanced around the pair of them, checking for any prying eyes or over attentive ears. He wasn't daft, her suggestion meant sex. Should he accept the offer, she would see him naked, see his mark. If she was going to be disgusted, furious about it, he preferred to initiate the reaction while dressed and in public. Spare himself the embarrassment if nothing else. "I was a death eater."

He expected her to recoil, to leave, but instead she peered over the top of her glass in confusion. "I wasn't aware death  _could_ be eaten."

Severus' lips tightened with the closest thing to laughter she would receive. "It was what the Dark-" He cleared his throat, such a term no longer necessary. "-Lord Voldemort called his followers."

"You're a blood purist then?"

For the first time since their meeting, he detected a hint of disappointment in her voice. "No. I was too stupid for my own good."

"Stupidity is something I can handle." She pushed her chair backwards, standing. "Shall we?"

It was his turn to choke on the briny liquid, resulting in an intense burn down the back of his throat. "I don't know what you're aiming for here, but you won't be getting it from me." He lifted himself from the chair, procuring a few notes for the both of them and placing them down. "It was…pleasant." His lip curled. "To meet you, Miss Ixora."

His fists were shoved into the pockets of his robes as he forced his way through the growing throng of people with Lily once again trailing invisibly behind. His head pounded from the interaction, the combination of noises, and his breathing began to accelerate. Suddenly the door which had seemed only meters away a moment ago had vanished behind the crowd. He was trapped.

Severus turned on his heel, no longer sure which direction he should go in. The air around him was musty and too hot. He fought to draw in each breath, growing panicky and more confused. Patrons bumped up against him in the small space, it was because of that he didn't notice the hold someone had on him. It was only when he felt the yank behind his belly button, as though he'd been caught by a fish, did he realize Ixora had followed him.

The crowd formed into a blur, disappearing in front of him to be replaced by the private surroundings of a home. He vaguely registered her guiding him into a seated position, instead having focused on the oxygen that didn't feel so heavy. His head hung between his knees, eyes squeezed shut as the adrenaline in his veins diminished.

"You were determined to get me here one way or another, weren't you?" He asked when he no longer felt on the brink of collapse.

"I can't say I mind the company, but a panic attack wasn't my first choice. You don't like crowds, do you?"

Severus felt her hand on his back, too intimate for their short time spent together, but he didn't shrug it away. "People in general tend to be a nuisance."

"Including me?" She asked in mock offense.

He opened his eyes finally, staring at the wood floor beneath his feet. "Especially you."

He heard the unmistakable huff of laughter at his response. "I can take you home."

 _Home._ "I don't entirely have one at the moment." That had been his task for tomorrow, instead having focused tonight on pleasure. A foolish mistake.

"Is there a friend, an old colleague you could stay with?"

He thought about the stack of letters still in his pocket, in the shrunken rucksack with the rest of his things. Whether they held apologies or words of hatred he wasn't sure. He wasn't privy to find out by asking for a place to stay. "No."

"You mentioned that student of yours? The auror?"

"I would rather die." Potter wouldn't take him in even if he tried. Sure, the boy's visit had been…pleasant…he assumed. It wasn't as disastrous as their previous encounters while at Hogwarts. But, to rely on the boy for a bed was out the question.

"There's a wonderful park bench across the street, only covered with the occasional spot of excrement."

"Precisely what I look for in a good night’s sleep." Severus sat up, facing her. His vision still swam slightly, but this time ending up with his face pressed against a sticky, grime covered pub floor wasn't a possibility.

"I guess that leaves the option you previously turned down.”

There were hotels, that had been his original plan, but now the thought of interacting with a new human being was far too much. "I guess so."

Xxxx

_Her red hair whipped around her face in the wind, strands having freed themselves from the plait hanging down her back. He brushed a chunk that was tickling her away from her freckled face only to have it return._

_The breeze had a similar effect on the sky blue, summer dress she wore, billowing around her knees. The exposed skin of her arms bumped in the chill and he embraced her to keep her warm. The affection was returned, her own arms crossing around his back._

_The tips of his fingers found her waist, and worked in gentle circles, causing her to squirm. She laughed at the touch, begging him to stop between breaths and he did. The beaming smile that had played on her lips dimmed, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips grew nearer. His own lids closed in anticipation of the kiss._

" _Snivellus." She hissed_

_His eyes flew open again at the dreaded nickname, her voice filled with displeasure. Her forked tongue flickered from her lips, her eyes thinning into an almond shape instead of the large, round ones he was used to. Her irises yellowed, pupils morphing into black, snake like slits. Her lips parted to speak, words coming in a series of hisses he couldn't understand._

_He was left frozen, clinging to the snake like woman looking back at him. Her mouth opened, barring pointed fangs. Before he could move, she lunged at him, striking again and again. Her sharp teeth tore into his flesh, blood pouring from his wounds. His throat, his face, his chest, every available part of his body was subject to a bite as he began to resemble ceviche rather than man._

Severus sat up in a cold sweat, hand going immediately to his throat. It was sticky and wet, and he pulled his fingers back in fear. Illuminated only by a gently glowing street lamp, he found only the glimmer of sweat.

He pat the sofa beside him next, searching for the apparition of Lily he had grown so close to in the time that passed since the attack. Of course, she chose now of all times to ignore him. Maybe it was for the best, after the dream he’d just had

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and focus on the unfamiliar surroundings. It took a moment for him to place himself, confused by the objects that weren't his own. He gripped the itchy, wool blanket that had covered him and was now soaked through with his salty sweat.

 _It was only a dream._  He tried to reason, not fully believing his own words. The bite on his throat ached and he felt it again. He was unsure if he was imagining the pain, but that didn't help soothe him.

He stood, pacing the floor in his bare, and equally sweaty feat. His hands were clasped behind his head, limbs trembling slightly when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Nightmare?"

He turned, finding Ixora leaning against the doorway, a silk robe tied loosely around her waist. "Did I wake you?"

"Not at all, I regularly wake up at four in the morning to the screams of men."

He felt his face flush in the dark.

"Tea?" Before he could answer, she made her way to the kitchen, popping a kettle on the stove. "I find the muggle kind tastes better."

Still shaking, he sat on a stool behind the marble counter top. "Why are you being so nice?"

She spoke, her back to him. "You and I aren't so different Severus."

"How quickly you completed your examination of me."

Wordlessly, she left him, disappearing into a different room. He sat there in confusion, unsure if he should follow, if he should finish the drink. Before he could come to a conclusion, she returned. A copy of The New York Ghost in her hands. "I thought you looked familiar." She threw it down in front of him.

_**Hogwarts Headmaster Arrested for Ties with You-Know-Who** _

Beneath the headline was a moving picture of him being led away. His head was bowed, allowing his curtain of black hair to conceal him, but apparently, it hadn’t been enough.

"I don't understand." The back of his throat burned with bile.

The kettle began to whistle, and she poured the boiling liquid into two cups, the string of tea bags hanging out of each. She placed one in front of him and wrapped her fingers tightly around the other, inhaling the steam.

With a free hand she dragged her left sleeve downwards, revealing a mark he hadn't expected. He stared at the intertwined skull and serpent, identical to the one he bore. "If that was meant to answer questions, it only raised more. Why did you pretend to be clueless?"

"To see if you'd tell me the truth, if you'd use an excuse."

"You already know everything, then?"

"No. I had my suspicions, but it was only when you used occlumency that I started to put the pieces together. I dug for this when you fell asleep on the couch." She gestured to the Prophet. "Knowing that I'd heard of you before. I haven't read it."

His brows knitted together, creating a crease across his forehead. "Why not?"

"I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know."

There was a new found light heartedness in him as he took a sip of his tea. "It would do well for others to exercise such a control over their curiosity as you have." He thought back to the attempted legilimency of earlier. "Although I suppose you fall into both categories."

She smirked again, coming to sit beside him. "I suppose you're wondering about my beliefs the same as I wondered about yours?"

"I can't disagree with that, no."

Her mouth quirked sideways in thought. "Let's say I didn't always make the best decisions."

"And you do now? Bringing home strange, dangerous men is considered a  _good_ decision?"

She laughed openly at his question. "You seem about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit."

"Yes." He sneered. "Well, we'll continue to let you believe that."

 

 


	5. Newsworthy

Ixora took the empty, ceramic cup out from in front of him, one that looked far too dainty even in his bony fingers. She turned her back on him, placing her dish in the sink beside his. He admired her lavender peignoir and the way the silk clung to her in some places and billowed in others. He found himself surprised at the thought of what lay underneath such frilly cloth, that maybe, with her past, she could be just as broken as him. “Have you decided to make this place home, then?” She faced him again, palms on the counter and leaning back into it, effectually breaking his perverse thoughts of her.

Severus examined his surroundings, the cheery yellow décor, the plush furniture, and ample foliage that dotted the room. Too many baubles for his taste, yet it gave off the pleasure of home he had chased for so many years. “I’m afraid not, there isn’t nearly enough black.”

She rolled her eyes, allowing her shoulders to droop, the fabric covering them to shift slightly at the movement.  “Manhattan, dwaas.”

Ignoring the remark he could only assume was snide, he looked to the time piece on his wrist, black, like everything else he owned. “I’ve been here seventeen hours. I’d like to explore the area a bit more before making a decision.” For some reason he had thought he’d never leave this place – hers – that this moment of comfort and safety would stretch out, time no longer ticking by.

“Should you need anything, we are equipped with magical markets of our own. Going back home to Britain is only a few turns away, quite literally.”

His upper lip quivered at the mention. He  _had_ picked this place for similar reasoning, but without an intention of actually doing such a thing. “I suspect the word ‘home’ doesn’t have the same meaning for us.” Severus couldn’t be sure he’d ever truly learned what a 'home' could feel like.

She frowned, tilting her head slightly. Her brown eyes glittering with curiosity. “Fair enough.” She straightened, tightening the belt around her waist and drawing his attention back to it. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

He leaned back, considering the proposition for the length of a second. “I can find my way.” He stood, knowing it was far too early for anything to be open, but for some reason he was unable to stay here any longer. He avoided her eyes, knowing that she was watching him with the intent stare he’d been privy to while with her.

“What is so wrong with being in the company of another human being?” The question was innocent, but dripping with curiosity and a desire to know more about him.

It was the question he already knew was coming and had moved too slow to avoid it. His voice came out in a growl, both in response to the question and as an admonishment to himself. “They’re a truly despicable species.”

“Of which you belong.” He heard the laughter in her voice as he stared at the white tile beneath his socked feet. It was light and airy, unlike that of his brooding laughter that struggled to come to the surface.

“Then there’s your example.” Severus didn’t share a similar humor. He had been unusually wrapped up in his mistakes as of recent. There were too many lives that he had been responsible for, too many people that had lost their lives because him. It didn’t help that Lily kept appearing beside him, and what she meant he didn’t know. The battle against Voldemort may have been won, but he was losing the battle against himself a little more every day.

He felt a tentative brush of skin against his own. Having not realized she approached him, he flinched. “You’re too quiet for your own good.” His skin bumped at the touch of her, at the realization of how close she now stood. He may be inexperienced, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize the electricity between them.

“A testament to my criminal days.” She joked back, her hand remaining in its place on his.

He found himself lifting his head, unwillingly meeting her brown eyes despite the intrusion of the day before. The heavy, steel doors of his mind slammed shut, just to be safe.

“You don’t need to be so closed off.” Her voice was softer than before, and he was confused. He hadn’t felt the tentacles of legillimency trying to force themselves past his locks, but she had known. “Your eyes sparkle a bit; did you know that? I found myself watching the glimmer when it disappeared.”

“My ‘glimmer’ is not for you.” He sneered in disgust. It had only ever been for one person. Her other hand was on him just as quickly as the first had been, pressed to the side of his chest. Her fingers resting in the gaps between his ribs.

Ixora ignored him, her breath instead coming out in hot waves against his bloodless skin. He felt his eyes linger a moment longer on hers, unable to entirely tear them away. He’d never admired the female body in such a way, had never truly had the time or interest. Now, having thrust herself upon him, and with no other distraction in sight, he felt an ache of curiosity.

 The quiet hum of the light fixture above them was dimmed beneath their breaths of hesitation. The light itself illuminating her fair skin in a way that reminded him of the beach, of burying himself in the warm sand he associated with her in that moment.

She closed the distance between them ever so slowly, giving him time to pull back, to make a smart comment. Rather than remaining stiff beneath her inviting touch, he reciprocated. His own fingers drifted to her sides, too high to be seductive and too low to be romantic, but there all the same. He toyed with the thin, ribbon-like belt, knowing just how easily he could untie it. Ixora didn’t stop him, seeming to know just the same. He was thankful then that the Lily had yet to reappear, the one person who could permanently sour this moment.

The skin of her velvet lips brushed against his teasingly and he felt his own pull up into something akin to a smile. He met hers with more force, all other movement stopping. His nerves buzzed in excitement, releasing their previous worries to envelope themselves in something new.

She tasted of lemongrass and ginger which filled his senses, intoxicating him a little further. Every sensation of her against him, the touch, the smell, was invigorating. When she pulled back, he met her eyes with slightly less of a barrier than before. “There it is again.” She smiled.

“Your tea would taste better with a little alihosty.” His voice was husky from the unexpected intimacy he hadn’t been entirely ready to end.

A chuckle escaped her, and she laid her forehead on his chest for a moment. He took in the soft blonde hair that fell past her shoulders, fuzzed on the ends from sleep, but beautiful all the same. “You certainly know how to flatter someone.”

“Do people not usually comment on the breath of the participating member?” His voice was serious, but his soft smirk betrayed him.

 “You’ll have to make it for me some time, the tea.”

He was surprisingly not as annoyed by the thought as he should have been, at the idea of seeing her again. He felt the slight rush of blood to his cheeks and was thankful for the shadows that fell across his face, his own curtain of black hair having concealed him in a way.

“I’ll see you again, then?” A flicker of hope shone across her eyes, beckoning him back towards her. He would show up every day to listen to her drag the horse haired bow across the strings of her violin, he would make that tea just to hear a whisper of that honeyed laugh again. He would gladly bring himself here, drown himself in thoughts and touches of her if it meant a little less time in reality and a little more being pleasured.

He thought then of the dark mark on her wrist. It had faded to a scar, barely noticeable if you didn’t know what to look for, but it was there just like his. It was likely she had done a number of unspeakable acts herself, and she didn’t seem tinged with the same regrets as him. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea. I don’t tend to do…” He trailed off, examining her flat again. He didn’t  _tend to do_ anything. A life of servitude had solidified the fact that he did nothing but brew potions.

He debated snogging her again when there was a thumping at the glass. He jumped at the noise, wand immediately sliding into his hand in panic, always assuming the worst. Meanwhile, Ixora crossed the kitchen and opened the window in question.

A creature flew in to the room with quiet flaps. Depositing the newspaper in its grip on the counter, the animal found its perch. It hung upside down, leather wings wrapped around itself and round, inky eyes staring at Severus.

“Meet Aiko.” Ixora grinned, going for the paper it had left.

“Golden capped fruit bat.” He stepped towards it, examining the animal, the golden fur that adorned is head before fading into brown. “They’re almost extinct.” His hand was held out tentatively, waiting for acceptance before he stroked the bat. When he was answered with silence, he looked over her shoulder to where Ixora was nervously chewing on her thumbnail, her eyes glued to the page before her.

Seventeen hours, that’s how long he had been here and nearly all of it had been spent in her company, but it took him far less time to learn that fear was an emotion she rarely experienced.

“Severus…” Her voice was slow, quiet as the letters of his name rolled off her tongue with a slight accent. “Look at this.” She held the Ghost out to him which he took, an eyebrow raised in question.

His eyes scanned the page, landing on the article where she indicated with an equally chewed nail.

**Minister Under You-Know-Who’s Regime Found Dead**

_Former Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse's body was discovered early Thursday morning. His manner of death remains unconfirmed, but is considered to be a homicide at this time. Avada Kedavra has been ruled out as a cause of death and an investigation is ongoing. Pius Thicknesse is best known for…_

He glanced at her with a shrug, not registering the same fear that was written on her face. Pius hadn’t entirely been a decent man before he was imperiused by the Dark Lord. Severus didn’t feel a glint of remorse for the vengeful man. “He’s dead. Meanwhile, there’s a coupon for- “

“Dead? He was  _murdered.”_ She stole the paper back from him, reading the article again despite its lack of information.

She didn’t know Pius like he did, he forced the thought, she hadn’t sat at the achingly long, black table with Voldemort at its head and Pius beside him. She didn’t watch the unflinching eyes of the man as Charity, Severus’ friend, was eaten alive before them. “Yes, and I could give you a long list of suspects. It’s hardly newsworthy.” He lifted a hand, palm to the ceiling. His tone one of exasperation rather than the reassurance he had meant. “The size and placing of the article suggests the Daily Prophet thinks so as well.”

“No.” She shook her head., refusing to believe him and refusing to look away from the parchment. A wrinkle appeared between her brows as she thought. “Something isn’t right. Why now? Why 3 years after his fall?”

“He was a wanker. Probably angered the wrong death eater.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She placed the paper down with a heavy sigh, a finger going to each of her temples and indicating that  _nothing_ about his words comforted her.

“You’re worried you’ll be next.” He sounded the words slowly as they came to him.

“It’s stupid, I know.”

He edged closer to where she stood. His eyes were narrowed slightly, but his body was relaxed, a symbol of submission, that she needn’t be afraid. “What about this do you find so terrifying?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…unsettling.” She shook her head a little too fast for him to believe her, a smile plastered on her lips and not quite meeting his gaze.

His own lips tightened, ignoring her assurance and pressing forward. “Who knows you served him?”

She hesitated in thought, her expression betraying her momentarily as she focused on something else. In that moment, the fear that crossed her features was not one of insignificance. She was truly afraid. “Not many. Death eaters outside of England weren’t treated like the rest of you.” It explained why he hadn’t seen her before, but filled him with other questions. Before he could settle on which one to ask, she had diverted the conversation, answering the irritated squabble that came from the bat. “You met Aiko?” She approached him, scratching behind his fleshy ears and allowing a true smile to form.

 


	6. Letters

_Professor Snape, can I still call you that? Or is it just “Snape” now? I suppose I can call you whatever I want, I’m not sure if you’ll get the chance to read this, or if you will even if you do get the chance. It’s not like there’s no threat for detentions, docked points anymore, so I’m going to call you Professor whether you like it or not. Trust me, it’s nicer than most of the names passed around the school._

_I’m not sure why I’m writing this, if it’s some manifest of my internal ramblings, but my fingers were itching to pick up the quill._

_I’m also not sure why I did it, why I told Voldemort – everyone – what you really were. Maybe I was trying to distract him. I don’t know anymore. I can’t say I thought you’d be angry. I thought it’d be a relief, everyone finally knowing your intentions. I guess I was wrong_

_But that isn’t what makes me want to write you. I want clarification, about my Mum, my dad too. Your magical memory tears you insisted I have brought me more questions than answers. With Remus gone, there’s no one I can ask. Maybe I should have taken advantage of that when he was alive. Maybe I didn’t because I was afraid such questions would give him a death sentence, one he got anyway. I was just so tired of hurting people, of losing them. It was easier to live with the burden of their memory than to say it out loud. I guess you understand that too. I want to know more, if you’ll give me more. I want to know who they were, both of them. I want the truth, even if some of it is bad. I want to believe that my past is more than just the Dursleys, and that I can carry a part of my parents wherever I am._

_I’m tired of making mistakes and the only way I feel I can prevent them is by knowing more about who I am._

  * _Harry Potter_



 

The parchment was crisp, yellowed around the edges and folding in on itself. Although the letter was dated to just after Severus had received his sentence, the paper on which it was written appeared to be much older.

How could he indulge such requests? How could he relive the burden of the life he thought he had escaped? But, then again, how could he deny Harry’s request?

He placed the parchment down, curled pages laying across the top of a cardboard box. Perched atop a different box, Severus scowled, his fingers forming steeples and his forehead leaning so they rested on the tips of them.

Beyond the windows of his new, overpriced flat, he could see the glittering, silver windows of the city, the maze of the people beyond, many, he was sure, like him. Then how did he feel so alone? It didn’t help that this place didn’t feel like home, that he had never been quite sure what a home felt like. But, here he was, surrounded by a sea of cardboard that he had no desire to dive into.

He knew what he had to do, the desire to do so another problem entirely. Severus sighed, glancing upwards, his fingers trailing down to his lips. As painful as it was, he could admit that he hadn’t treated the boy fairly. Three years in the clink had given him time to think, and think he had. The reality he didn’t want to admit, was that he owed Harry, owed him for far more than he would like.

He stood, wandering to one the boxes that Harry had helped him pack, one marked quills and parchment. He tore at the tape that held it closed, withdrawing what was inside. Dipping his quill into a pot of ink, he scrawled a message across the parchment.

_“It’s about time you apologized.”_

Severus looked up, finding the cross image of Lily staring back at him, her arms crossed, her posture rigid. The left corner of his lips twitched upward mockingly. “You’ve been mysteriously absent. Decided to join me again, did you?”

_“Excuse me for not wanting to intrude when you were with another woman.”_

He stepped towards her, running her hair back behind her ears before cupping her cheeks in her hands. He gazed into the young, emerald eyes, as perfect as the moment he had last seen her years ago. She was a near perfect image of that time, missing only the cuts and bruises that had marked her body when the fight with the Dark Lord ensued.

When his voice was able to escape his frozen lungs, it was as low murmur emitted deep within his chest. “You could never be an intrusion. And it isn’t an apology.” He pressed his lips to her freckled forehead, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender that traced her skin “But, I’m afraid that now I have to leave you.” Severus removed himself from her embrace with an ache deep in his chest. With a pop of disapparation, he found himself outside of Ixora’s door much sooner than he had planned on returning, if at all.

His fist pounded on the white paint, the swells of music drifting from inside quieting and eliciting footsteps from inside. It was opened, revealing her standing behind it, her blonde brows furrowed. Before he could consider it, her befuddlement transformed into a smile, her pink lips parting in hello. “Severus, this is unexpected.”

“Pardon the intrusion.” He smirked, lifting the rolled letter. “Is Aiko available?”

Ixora gave a light giggle, leaning into the door frame. “And who says I rent him out?”

He dug into his pocket, withdrawing a handful of knuts and sickles. “I can pay.”

She shook her head, another laugh escaping her as she stepped away. That familiar ache blossomed inside his chest again, this time for an entirely new reason. His footsteps drew him past her, into the cheery, yellow room. In the sunlight of morning, no longer filled with his night terrors, it looked like a completely different place.

He followed her through the rooms, his eyes trailing low on her figure. With the clearing of his throat, he brought himself back to reality and found the two of them in the kitchen they had shared a kiss in previously.

“I’m afraid you don’t understand female anatomy.” He blinked, confusion filling him, his brows knitting together when she gestured to her face. “My eyes are up here.”

Severus felt the heat flooding his cheeks and chose instead to focus on the sleeping bat. His fingers stretched out, running against the soft leather of the animal’s wings. “Do I need to wait until night?”

“His purpose is to carry letters; he is not like the muggle variety.”

“Yet, he’s asleep.”

Her own fingers reached out, running against the golden fur that crowned his head. Causing the muddy eyes to open and peer at them both. “That’s out of laziness more than anything.” Ixora removed him from his perch, cradling Aiko in her arms as Severus attached the small letter. “Shipping him off to England?”

He nodded as he stepped back, his eyes trained on the bat’s. “To Pott–“ He cleared his throat, realizing his mistake.

_“That isn’t his name.”_

He glanced over his shoulder, finding Lily, again. Cross, again.

“It’s a habit.” The words were directed at Lily, not the solid person of flesh standing in front of him.

“Excuse me?” Ixora’s voice broke through, increasing the red of his cheeks. “Do you often talk to yourself?”

“To Harry.” He corrected his statement of earlier, ignoring her question. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how to answer it. He found himself avoiding her gaze, suddenly regretting coming here.

“Harry.” Her voice was flat. “Harry Potter?”

“The same.” Severus’ lip curled upward, a result of the fame the boy carried.

She turned from him, tossing the bat through the open window. Severus watched the flap of black wings, silence stretching between them as they watched Aiko disappear into the morning sky.

“ _That’s_ your auror student?”

He laughed despite himself, meeting her the warm chocolate shade of her eyes, some of his tension dissipating. “It wouldn’t be nearly as impressive if you had known him as a boy. Incompetent, a tendency for trouble…” His voice trailed off, disappearing into the space around them. He hadn’t been wrong before; it was a habit. A habit he desperately needed to fall out of. “Smart, dependable.”

“You’re not sure how you feel about him, are you?” Ixora leaned back against the counter, her palms against it as he had seen her before, and he felt a pull in her direction.

“Not even a bit.”

Xxxx

The sweetness of treacle, of the dessert of earlier lingered on her lips, an unidentifiable floral scent embedded in her skin. Harry kissed the side of her lips, causing a gasp to escape her. His body was nearly flush against hers as he hung over her, the palms of his hands pressed into the mattress.

The gray light of sunrise was just cresting the hills beyond the window of their bedroom, soon to be replaced by the hues of orange. They’d been filled with the newlywed passion that awoke them in the early hours, the need for each other, to need to love and be loved. They were interrupted only by a thud at the window.

His hands pulled from behind her head, disentangling his fingers from her hair. “Who the bloody hell sends an owl at three in the morning?” He rolled off her, stretching for his glasses that had been discarded on his bedside table hours ago before standing and approaching the window. He opened it, expecting an owl, and receiving a large bat instead.

With a black mass flying at her, Ginny shrieked, throwing the blanket above her head. “I prefer the bogey version!” She mumbled from beneath the layers of fabric.

The flapping quieted as the bat found a perch, dropping its letter on the floor below before tucking its wings around itself as it hung in the open closet. Harry plucked it from the floor, unrolling the parchment. With a flick of his wand, the light in the room ignited. He blinked against the sudden brightness, reading the messy writing that had been scrawled and smudged.

“It’s from Snape.” His words were slow, confused as he scanned the page. He heard the shuffle of the blanket as Ginny freed herself, no doubt a look of surprise crossing her face. He knew her well enough to know the expression of distaste that occurred despite all they’d been through with the man.

“What did he say?”

Harry shook his head, disbelieving what was before his eyes. “It can’t be…” He muttered to himself before turning to face her. “He’s read my first letter. He agreed to discuss my parents.”

The pads of her feet sounded against the carpet then as she made her way towards him. “Let me see.” She stated, tearing the letter from his hands. Harry waited as she read it, smiling at her tenacity, her disbelief. “You’re going to do it then? You’re going to port key over?”

He pushed up the glasses that had begun slipping down his nose. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have the best…track record together. He hardly thanked you for your help.”

“Thank you? Can you truly picture those words coming from his mouth?”

“No, but–“

“He’s already given me more than I’ve gotten from anyone else.” He kissed her again, first her forehead, then the tip of his nose before he spoke again, his voice just above a whisper. “I love your parents, but they aren’t mine. I need to know where I came from, who I am, and this is my chance.”

Ginny nodded finally, her head going to his chest, her arms around his waist. “How long do we have to keep the bat?”


	7. Allegations

Severus eyes remained on the window as their voices diminished. With the bat no longer visible in the sky, she wondered where he had disappeared, knowing he wasn’t simply looking at the conglomerate of taxis and people filling the world beneath them. She had seen it before now, the haze that clouded him. He was a soldier. He had fought in a war that she had distantly been a part of, but could never truly imagine.

Through the near black color of his robes, she could see the stress he held within his muscles. He stood tall, his shoulders back, an intimidation tactic even though there was nothing here to hurt him. He was a cord that if pulled any tighter would snap.

It had been there at the theatre, the bar, as he gaze up at her ceiling when he’d spent the night. She suspected that even in sleep, it was there. But, it was more than that. From her position, she could see the slight twitch of his head, the jerk of his hands as he fought not to clench. They were things she wasn’t sure he was even aware of, but that signaled they weren’t alone.

Ixora approached him, wanting nothing more but to understand. She clutched at the loose fabric of her shirt, gathering it and holding it tight to her stomach with one hand. The other lifted as she approached, her footsteps quiet behind him, her thig fingers outstretched. The tips of them grazed the cotton of his robes before pressing harder into the center of his back. She felt the muscles beneath her touch spasm and she almost pulled away.

“ _Lily!”_ His voice was stern, the growl of something dangerous lurking beneath. His mouth remained open as he caught himself, the muscles of his jaw clenching once it was shut.

“I believe my name shares only one of those letters.” She spoke quietly, afraid to provoke him further. She wasn’t sure he could handle it.

He turned his head towards her, his eyelids shut momentarily. When he opened them, the fog of before was there. The cloudiness of some storm that was only just beginning to pass. “You see her, don’t you?” She asked. His eyes flit over one of her shoulders and she knew he wasn’t looking into her home. “Who is she?”

“It is unimportant.” His voice returned to that of a tired cub rather than the lion he had shown minutes before, but it wasn’t free of whatever plagued him. Ixora followed his gaze into the space around them, despite the fact she could never see what he could.

“Severus, this isn’t…” Her voice trailed off, knowing ‘normal’ wasn’t the appropriate word, that it could hurt him even more. “This isn’t right.”

“Have you seen death?” He asked her, his voice just as distracted. “Not that of a stranger, not the guilt of carrying out the Dark Lord’s orders, but of –“

“Of someone I love?” She guessed, knowing he was giving her an insight into the name he called out.

He nodded slowly, his eyes clear and finally meeting hers. “Have you smelled the iron of their blood on you fingers? Felt the stillness of their body in your arms?”

“Look at me.” Her voice trembled slightly despite every part of her threatening to control it. She knew the pain that he spoke of all too well.

He did as he was asked, turning fully towards her. She released the hold she had had on the cloth of her shirt, her fingers instead dancing around the edges of it. It was a secret she guarded closely, that most days even she couldn’t bare to face. She lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing the smooth skin that lay beneath. With a wave of her wand, she undid the glamor charm that she lived beneath, revealing something else entirely.

What had once been blisters had healed into circles that would never flatten, encompassed by the puckers, the ridges of skin that had been formed by fire. He stared at her blankly, leaving it her turn to feel uncomfortable beneath his stare. It would have been better if she could read what lay behind the solid onyx of his eyes.

“Arson?” He recalled her statement of before, the reasoning behind her own prison stay. Severus’s face turned back up to hers, his eyes lingering on the burn that had once graced her cheek. She lifted her wand again, eager to replace the charm when he held her hand to stop her.

“I can’t live with myself; I can’t live with what I’ve done.” She reasoned, allowing her shirt to fall back into place as the wave of memory from that day crashed over her, leaving her shaking from the cold force of it. The scent of burning flesh – not just her own – still woke her at night. It burned her nose, the smoke of long ago constricted her lungs until she woke choking on something that wasn’t there. “It killed my brother” The image of him looking up at her, begging with his eyes for the pain to end had stuck with her. The flash of green that meant she had obliged, plaguing her even more. “We did it together, and it was how I was caught.”

She was folded into his arms, the strength of him holding the pieces of her together in a way she’d never been able to do on her own, and she let him. “I know all too well.” She whispered against the fabric of his chest, answering his question of earlier.

With her wand still gripped in her hand, she replaced the charm and he didn’t fight her. He was distantly quiet, not asking for the explanation that others would have. Instead, she heard the deep murmur of his voice resonating close to her before it escaped his mouth, telling a story of his own.

 He gave her little, but it was more than she could have asked for. He spoke of the person he had lost with no explanation as to how before falling on the topic of how he too had played a roll in her death. She suspected he was the same as she, holding the story so close to his own heart it was hard to form into words, to make another person understand just how painful it was. Though those situations differed, they were painful all the same.

“And this – Lily – is who you see? Who you speak to?” She almost expected him to deny the accusation as he had done before. The quiet space that passed between them seemed to confirm her thought. “Yes.”

They fell into silence beside each other, the intensity of it silencing any questions that could have come. She should have pulled away from this man that was little more than a stranger, but that didn’t feel entirely true anymore.

She had never before revealed the source of such loss, the event in her life that irreversibly changed her existence. And now, she had just given him the key. The answer to everything that was wrong with her. He knew little of how it broke her, how it left both her mind and body full of scars, but it was more than she had given in the past.

Ixora felt the shift of his clothing, the warmth of his body moving farther away from her. The shift that meant he was retreating back into the shell that she had only just cracked open.

Xxxx

Harry watched over the crowd of redheads that had sprung up around him. Years ago, it had been only the Weasleys, but as they married, they had produced red heads of their own. The chatter, the infant cries, mingled in the air of the burrow, morphing into one indecipherable noise and he felt content as he watched over them. As he watched over his family.

He had secluded himself in a far corner, spacing himself from the rest just enough that he could watch without being a participant. The people surrounding him seemed happy enough, they smiled and laughed at one another’s jokes, but there was a tightness that lingered on the edges of lips, a tone of sadness the ended each laugh. Not all of them were here.

George’s pain was the most apparent, ahead of only Mrs. Weasley who had managed to hold herself together through the party. But, George had become a shell of what he once had been, the largest part of his heart buried in the Ottery St. Catchpole cemetery.

Each of them could see his pain, but none spoke of it. It made the missing piece that completed the Weasley puzzle even more of a gruesome pain to hold. It didn’t matter that it was his daughter’s birthday. It didn’t matter that his wife sat beside him, their hands clasped tightly together. Fred was gone, and that fact hurt him more than he cared to let on.

Mrs. Weasley wore her grief in her face, the crinkles around her eyes that threatened to fill with tears at each sad _and_ happy occasion. Mr. Weasley was better at hiding the grief that still plagued them all, but it was there. When he didn’t think anyone was watching, a flicker of despair would contort his features, his eyes would go hollow, and it was just like that day in the castle all over again as they had crouched over the ones they had lost. The birthday cake was divided and passed around, each of them aware that there was one extra piece, one extra chair, but none of them able to say it.

Harry accepted his with a smile and a nod, finally releasing the grip he had had on his glass of water. He drained its contents as his favorite redhead sidled up to him, her arm snaking through his. He found her bright, brown eyes beneath the firelight that lit the room, embers of it igniting in her gaze. With his cup placed beside his feet, his hand found hers, his thumb rubbing across the ring he had placed there, the stones rough against his skin.

“You look tired.” Ginny ran her hand against the stubble that he had allowed to grow across his chin, the stubble that had remained at her request. _It makes you look older, stern._ She had told him once with the justification that no criminal would listen to such a baby face, even if he was Harry Potter. And so, he had let it grow.

“It’s work.” He whispered back, his eyes finding Ron, his partner, in the crowd. “The preliminary investigation has brought up more questions.”

“Investigation? Thicknesse?” She stole a bite of his cake before the words were fully out of her mouth, the sound muffling with the food. He kissed her, bringing the frosting that had traced her lip into his own mouth.

“Mmm, it’ll be in the Prophet tomorrow, otherwise I wouldn’t tell you.”

Her smile twisted sideways as she watched him, her eyes sparkling with a rebellion he loved. “You never let me in on the secrets otherwise.”

He scoffed loudly, causing several heads to turn towards them. Had it been any other family, a blush might have crept up his neck, but he found himself impossible to be embarrassed alongside them now. “It’s almost like it’s my job not to.” Harry’s voice grew solemn, his gaze drifting downwards with a feigned interest in his dessert. “The autopsy revealed dark magic, Gin, something the Ministry hasn’t seen before. Whoever did this, I don’t think this is last time we’ll be hearing from them.”

She was quiet, the reaction he had expected lost beneath her thoughts as she pondered his words. “Harry, you haven’t seen anyone like this since You-Know-Who. It’s been three years. You don’t think…you don’t think Snape has anything to do with it, do you?”

He moved his head upwards again, finding that her eyebrows were tipped upward, her forehead puckered. “The timing is unusual.” He conceded with a gentle nod. “I think it’s worth considering.”


End file.
